


The Bright Lure of Freedom

by KinkyPlotBunny



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Gen, Torture, Whump, breaking Loki's beautiful mind
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-22
Updated: 2020-08-22
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:41:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26045176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KinkyPlotBunny/pseuds/KinkyPlotBunny
Summary: Loki’s Stuttgart speech (as well as the one at SHIELD), glorious as it is, never sat quite right with me. So recently I thought, what if that speech was drilled, word for word, into Loki's brainwashed mind? Yes, I’m brutal, I know. Loki’s time at the hands of Thanos is still the most whumpy subject I can think of.
Comments: 7
Kudos: 12





	The Bright Lure of Freedom

It's bright. It's hot. It's been bright and hot for a long time. There's nothing left in Loki's body to produce sweat, so he just heats up more and more with every minute. Gets weaker with every minute. Loses consciousness more often. Stays out longer, less lucid every time he comes to. The one thing that's always there whenever he wakes up is disgust with himself. How stupid does one have to be to tell your capturer, your torturer, that you're a frost giant. Vulnerable to _heat_ more than anything else. Stupid useless Loki. Serves him right.

He's stopped provoking them what feels like weeks ago. He's stopped yelling and growling days ago. Are there days in this place? And finally, he's stopped asking what they want. Apparently, _that_ was what they wanted, because suddenly they unlock his chains and drag him outside. Is that outside? It's cool. Cold even. And almost completely dark. It feels heavenly, as if his skin is soaking up the cool humid air. His head clears. His magic stirs. He keeps his head down but reaches out with his seidr. What is this place?

Someone snarls in his ear:

“Do you like it here, slave?”

His blood boils at the term and he lashes out, kicking his feet.

“I'm not a slave,” he hisses.

The voice just laughs and yanks on his chains, digging into his raw wrists and ankles. He refuses to scream.

“You will be allowed into the dark cold whenever you obey our Master's orders.”

He _almost_ asks what he is supposed to do. They are waiting. When Loki doesn't speak they drag him back inside. Is that inside? 

Time has no meaning.

“What...” Loki whispers. The single word burns in his lungs. He tries to lick his cracked lips but his tongue is just as dry and won't move. A foot kicks his ribs.

“Speak up, slave.”

Loki takes a breath. It wheezes in his lungs and burns even more, but he forces out a complete sentence:

“What is it that your master wants me to do?”

They cackle.

“ _Our_ master. Yours and mine.”

And then they kick him again. And again. And he lets go.

When he wakes up, someone holds a yellow gem in front of his face.

“Do you know what this is, slave?”

Magic. The gem thrums with magical energy. And every fiber in Loki's body screams at him to stay away from it.

Another kick.

“Do you”

Kick

“Know”

Kick

“What this is”

Kick

“Slave?!”

He shakes his head.

“Touch it.”

No. Don't. The warning is clear as day. You will lose what little is left of yourself. Don't. Resist. Don't obey.

Loki shakes his head again.

They kick him again, hard enough to break another rib, and then they are gone.

Heat.

Brightness.

Thirst.

Pain.

Despair.

And then the yellow gem is back.

“Touch it.”

Loki tries to swallow but can't. He nods, so weakly that he thinks they haven't seen it. But they have. They hold the gem out, and Loki reaches out, cuffed hands shaking violently, and brushes his fingertips over the smooth surface. Searing pain shoots through his mind, cancels out every thought, every bit of self-awareness. He jerks back. They laugh, but they lead him to the cool darkness and even allow him a few sips of water. He can barely keep it down. He can feel his strength return, physically at least. When he tries to reach for his magic they tell him it's enough and put him back in his cell. Is it a cell?

They leave him there until he's half mad. Until he asks to touch the Mind Stone again. This time it feels as if the stone's energy pattern reconnects with something it has left inside his mind. He can feel his freedom slip through his fingers. It scares him more than the torture. Until it doesn't.

When he asks them to touch him with the stone, their laughter sounds like triumph. They press it to his chest, right on his sternum, and its energy starts pulsing through his whole body. He doesn't remember anything for days afterwards.

Every time he wakes up they give speeches about the bright lure of freedom. After a while they start making sense in his mind. More and more, more than anything he thought he knew. Speeches about a mad scramble for power, for identity, that feel so familiar. Are those his thoughts? Or theirs? The speeches and his craving become one. He's craving the stone's energy. Enough to beg for it. So he begs. Again and again until they allow him his fix, laughing at his neediness and desperation.

And that's when they decide that he is ready.

“The Tesseract has awakened. It is on a little world, a human world. They would wield its power, but our ally knows its workings as they never will. He is ready to lead, and our force, our Chitauri, will follow.”

Pride washes over Loki. They called him ally, not slave. They trust him. They will give him a purpose. When they hand him the Scepter he immediately feels the familiar thrumming of the Mind Stone, embedded in its blue gem. It feels different now that _he's_ the one holding it. And yet it still is the same sensation of something drilling into his mind. Altering it. Altering him. He doesn't need their threat to know, to feel in his bones, that the Titan will find him, should he fail. Loki has a purpose, and he will serve and obey, no matter the cost. His own life, his pain, his fear is meaningless. Have been meaningless ever since he let go of the all-father's spear. There is no way out. The Titan is inevitable.

**Author's Note:**

> Slightly edited after a brilliant comment from the amazing jotunemo. Thank you!


End file.
